A New Safe Place
by angstylullaby
Summary: Set after 3x16. Spencer is heartbroken and has no idea what to believe in anymore. However, a chance of hapiness might exist in the form of a certain brunette. Spemily. Oneshot.


**After watching 3x16 and 3x17 I had the idea of this oneshot. I've tried to write it a bit differently from what I'm used to and I'm pretty satisfied with the result. I hope you like it!**

**I do not own Pretty Little Liars.**

* * *

**A New Safe Place**

It's late at night, almost dawn, and you lay on your bed staring at the ceiling. In your eighteen years of life you had never thought the phrase 'things aren't always what they seem' would reach such a coarse level. You shut your eyes close and massage your own temples, trying with all of the strength that is left in your body to avoid yet more tears to leave your eyes, but the task is impossible. It's impossible because the one you trusted the most has betrayed you in the most repugnant way. The person you so dearly loved and with whom you thought you would be spending the rest of your life has shattered your heart with their black-gloved hands and left you to drown in a sea of solitude.

You feel the need to suppress a scream when that crosses your mind and you grab the nearest pillow and sink your head in it, breathing heavily until the wave of desperation diminishes, although it never ceases. Still, you refuse to let the image of the dark hooded figure that invaded your house a few hours before stick in your head. You refuse to remember the murderous, threatening glare that beamed from his piercing blue eyes, once so gentle and caring, as he growled your name a second after you discovered him at your kitchen. You knew it was coming – from the moment you found the Radley Sanatorium badge that had his picture on it in one of the drawers at his apartment and you figured that he had been the one helping Mona Vanderwaal – you thought you were prepared. But you were far from that. And, despite the glimpse of shame that painted his face after you, suddenly controlled by your emotions, slapped him, you knew that it was the end. The image of the shy, misunderstood boy that cried at the alley was destroyed. And so was everything you believed in.

Thankfully, before anything else could happen, your mother appeared, casually calling your name and as you turned to her trying to mask your sorrow with a serious (and dreadful) expression, he took the opportunity to flee. The shock was running through your veins like a drug and, as much as you didn't want to break down in front of her, you couldn't avoid it as she asked what was wrong. Therefore, in that second, you let yourself fall into her arms, turning into a lost, helpless child. You wouldn't, however, dare to tell her what had happened. You couldn't.

Something irrational from deep within made you go to his loft. You needed an explanation. He predictably didn't answer the door and pure despair ran through your body as you tried to open it with your own key, only to realize that the locks had been changed. With hope drained from you, all that was left to do was to cry for an answer. Nothing.

The next day, as Aria and Hanna notice your disturbed energy when you're walking to The Brew together and worry about it, you figure you won't be able to tell them about your heartbreak either. Not when the wound is so recent. Not when no one is ever to be trusted again.

So you lie and run away, leaving them extremely confused.

At school, you stop at the bathroom to try and organize your mind, but it's too difficult. Nothing makes sense anymore. You look at yourself in the mirror and immediately self-hatred hits your gut. You are a Hastings. You're supposed to have everything figured out. You're supposed to be perfect. Methodic. Brilliant. However, you've let yourself be tricked for far too long. You've let your feelings dominate you. You've failed. – The image of your pale, tired features disgust you and you force a blank expression to appear on them.

Then Emily comes in. She shows you Alison's notebook, one that supposedly has clues that could help you and your friends unravel the mystery of the fierce blonde's murder. You simply don't care. The anger is consuming you and you snap. You question the importance of remaining loyal to Alison, since it seemed she was never loyal to any of you. You think Emily will snap back, knowing that she is a very emotional person, but she maintains her posture and makes you read the notebook's portion that tells about Alison's meeting with Toby after he was sent to juvie (when he was blamed for 'the Jenna thing'). The words that meet your eyes make them once again full of tears and you cover your mouth with one hand to avoid a cacophonic gasp from leaving it.

"Spence, what's wrong?" You hear Emily ask. Her voice is suddenly low and full of concern and it somehow encourages you to finally turn around to look at her. A knot forms in your throat and you take a breath before speaking.

"I haven't told you guys the truth." It's a strangled sound, weak. Unlike your usually cocky tone.

"What do you mean? What truth?" The swimmer's brow furrows slightly, the worry never leaving her almond brown eyes, which are fixated in your hazel ones with an incandescent intensity. It makes you say the following sentence with no hesitation.

"That Toby and I broke up last night." You glance down for a split of second. It is almost as if you have just confessed to yourself. Emily's expression instantly changes. Her eyes sadden.

"You did?" The astonished question comes out in a tone that nearly mimics yours perfectly. For a reason unknown to you, it is hard to keep looking directly at her, so you turn your gaze to the wall and nod. "What happened?" She now sounds protective, as if you were an injured puppy she has just found wandering in the streets. You stare back at her and the blank expression you had before threatens to come back. But her eyes are piercing through you with such strength it makes it impossible to shut her out.

"I'm not ready to talk about it. Can we just keep this between us?" Another secret. Another omission to haunt you. You hate to involve her in this, yet it is necessary, considering that you were on the verge of exploding. She doesn't push the subject like Hanna would. She doesn't look at you with big, pleading eyes like Aria would. She simply agrees and steps closer to embrace you, offering her comfort. As you wrap your arms around her in return and allow your right hand to run through her hair, a relieved breath escapes you. Something clicks in your mind, but you can't afford to dwell on it in this moment. Now there's only space to let out your contained emotions. And to do it in Emily's arms seems incredibly right.

* * *

Class is unbearable. While you sit isolated, a group of kids is enthusiastically discussing a book. You can't even remember its name; all you know is that it is about secrets. Oh, the irony.

After a few minutes into the class you notice you have received a new text message. It's from Aria; it says Ezra freaked over the news that he had a son and broke up with the petite girl. You feel enraged. Those things are not supposed to be happening. It appears that, all of a sudden, every bit of felicity that could make part of your life or your friend's is violently fading away. You simply can't stand to be in that classroom any longer, so you get up and try to leave. Mrs. Montgomery instantly tries to stop you and you end up losing your temper. You yell that nothing you learn there will prepare you for what you have to face in the real world; the class is a waste of you time. School is a waste of your time.

In an inexplicable speed, you find yourself riding your bike to the park. A few seconds after arriving that, you spot Ezra Fitz sitting on one of the benches, typing on his computer. You are blind with fury. You yell at him for taking everything out on Aria when he should have taken it out on Maggie. You give him a mini speech regarding the keeping of secrets and how hard it is to deal with them. Without thinking, you tell him how Maggie had kept from him that he has a kid. He looks at you completely in shock. Your face goes pale. He had no idea.

It was all an 'A' set up (you struggle to not think of it as a Toby set up). And you realize you might have just ruined your friend's relationship. The only thing you manage to do is climb back on your bike as quickly as possible and get away from there.

What you really don't need right now is Aria dropping by at your house, but, since fate has a twisted way of playing things with you, that's exactly what happens. You discuss your attitude earlier at her mother's class for a moment and she seems to not have stopped worrying about you since your evasiveness in that morning. In spite of that, you tell her to cut to the end. You want her to yell, scream, anything that can make you feel something other than darkness. She doesn't. Instead, she sends you a puzzled look and states she knows it was a set up. That somehow only helps to infuriate you and you tell her that you should start assuming responsibility for your problems. You insinuate that blaming 'A' is an easy way out. The tiny artist doesn't seem to fathom your words. She looks highly disappointed as she walks out and the fear of another loss strikes you. If this continues, you will most likely end up alone.

* * *

Once again, night arrives at Rosewood. You're at your loft - the one you had so fervently fought over with your sister through the years; not that it mattered anymore - sitting on a chair near your room's window, wondering if your plans relating to the private investigator you have hired to follow Toby will work. You need them to work. Only then all of your doubts will disappear. A bizarre smirk paints your face. – Thinking like that is dangerously deceiving. There are no guarantees that the storm will cease when a solution is found. Actually, with your luck, things will probably get harsher.

You look around, starting to be affected by the emptiness of your room. It represents the inside of your heart with no failure. You chew on your bottom lip hesitantly before grabbing your phone. You scroll down your contacts list and your finger freezes on a certain name; you clear your throat, deciding that nothing else will help you sleep that night.

_"Hello?"_ a sweet voice echoes from the other side of the line. You breathe in, absorbing the quiescent sound.

"Em…?"

_"Spence! Are you okay?"_

"Em…I need you."

In less than ten minutes she is at your doorstep with a small backpack hanging on her right shoulder. You stare at each other for a second, then, to her surprise, you grab the hem of her shirt and pull her closer. Your arms rapidly make their way to her waist and you hold on to her tightly, resting your chin on her left shoulder. Her confusion soon fades and she hugs you back. You feel her nuzzling your cheek with her nose, which makes you release an involuntary sigh.

"Thank you for coming over." You murmur as a wave of foreign tranquility washes through you.

"I wouldn't want to be anywhere else." She whispers.

A couple of horror movies and a tickle fight later, the two of you are cuddled up in your bed. Her arms are wrapped securely around you waist from behind and her face is buried on your brown hair. You can tell that she has fallen asleep because she is no longer whispering reassuring words into your ear. The closeness is such that you are actually able to count the number of breaths she lets out in a minute. As soothing as it might be, you, however, find it impossible to close your eyes and drift off.

Except you suddenly do. And the images that fill your mind – Toby in a black hoodie, chasing after you in a dark, abandoned version of Rosewood High – make you stir uncontrollably. Your eyes flicker open and you feel the grip around your form tighten.

"Will I ever be able to sleep again?" You ask without really thinking and you realize that your eyes are watery.

"I caught myself thinking the same thing after Maya's death." She states.

"What did you do? I mean…to make it better?"

"I thought of the way you held me the night her body was found."

* * *

During that same week, Emily makes a second appearance at you doorstep. This time, in huge contrast, she is the one that, out of you both, seems more disturbed. Her eyes are red and puffy and the tear tracks are unmistakably visible on her cheeks. Worry fills your insides because she hadn't appeared at school that morning. You send her a questioning look and she inhales deeply before speaking up.

"She cheated on me."

_'She'_, you immediately assume, is Paige McCullers.

You allow her in and she quickly walks towards your bed, sitting on it with a resonant thud.

"Hanna saw her two days ago with some girl at this gay bar that opened last month." She says. "Heavily making out near one of the emergency doors."

"Wait, what was Hanna doing at a gay bar?" You ask, intrigued. – You internally try hard to shrug the reminiscence that the fact Emily is telling you about has happened the same day that Toby's revelation. - She glares at you.

"Sorry, not important right now." You sit down next to her and embrace her shoulders, rubbing her arm with your hand in an attempt to make her relax.

"For someone who has been too scared to leave her house, Paige sure seemed fine there, as Hanna did not fail to point out." She says motionlessly. Her voice tone is so hoarse that her hurt is almost palpable. "So I stopped by her house earlier to confront her and she simply told me she was done." An incredulous, nearly hysterical chuckle escapes her. "Done with us. No explanations. No apologies. Nothing."

A wave of anger strikes you. Anger at everything that has been happening to you and your friends. Anger at Paige. Emily went through so much with that girl and now she has provided her with yet more love ache. A part of you isn't that surprised, though, you have never trusted your former field hockey teammate with your best friend's heart.

"Paige is a fucking idiot." The sentence escapes your mouth before you can control yourself and Emily looks at you with pure surprise on her features because she isn't used to hearing you swear. "She is. And she doesn't deserve you. No one remotely sane would ever throw you away like that."

"You're just saying that to make me feel better." She argues; her almond brown eyes seem alarmingly out of shine. You shake your head, incredulous of witnessing a moment of crushed self-esteem from the swimmer.

"No, I mean it." You state sincerely. "You're sweet, smart, caring, and talented; everything anyone could ever ask for, Em. Not to mention the fact that you're breathtakingly beautif-"

Your speech is interrupted by the pressure of soft lips against your own. You can't help but to flinch at first. After a few seconds of adapting to the feeling, however, you allow yourself to reciprocate. Emily's mouth moves slowly, curiously against yours. You had always imagined that if something like that was ever to happen, it would feel plainly weird. But you find yourself _enjoying_ it. A gasp of pleasure emits from you as the other brunette grabs your sides and pulls you closer. Your hands soon start searching for long, dark brown hair and you tug at it ever so innocently, as the experience of something completely new overwhelms you.

You even lean closer, your eyes shut, refusing to let go of the warmth of Emily's lips as she finally pulls away.

"Spencer." She calls. There is certain insecurity to her voice that makes you come back from the trance she had put you on. She is breathing as heavily as you are, but you notice fear in her stare. "Please tell me that was okay."

A few wordless seconds along with your confused expression are enough to make her freak out.

"Oh, God." She untangles her arms from your waist and looks away in shame. "I shouldn't have done that. You're my best friend. I swore I'd never…"

"Em, it's fine." You quickly interrupt, afraid that she might rush out of the loft at any moment due to her uneasiness. "It was…idyllic." She turns her stare back to you; her eyes are wondering, hesitant. You nod.

"You never get tired of your vocabulary, don't you?" She asks mockingly, obviously a bit more calm after your reply. You offer her your infamous smirk. She laughs and pokes your stomach.

"Please, that is not the moment to initiate another of our tickling confrontations." You say, feigning disapproval, before poking her back.

"Afraid of losing again, Hastings?" She teases, arching an eyebrow. That is enough encouragement to make you push her playfully on the bed and start attacking every inch of ticklish skin that she possesses. She gasps and tries to push you away. "Spence…! Not…Fair!" Her attempts to stop you are unsuccessful and you can't help but to smile at the sound of her laughter. There is something incredibly contagious in it. Something that manages to push away all the negative energy that had been running like acid through your veins. You feel like yourself again for the first time in days.

"Losing is not in my vocabulary, as rich as it might be." You say cockily after you, at last, stop and let her breathe.

"Your modesty is inversely proportional to your IQ, apparently." She replies while running a finger through your jaw line. Suddenly, _you_ are the one with most difficulty to breathe. That gesture makes you notice your current scenario. You're practically on top of her and the way that she is scanning your figure tells you that it doesn't make her uncomfortable at all. Your expression changes to one filled with curiosity and you tilt your head to the side, taking your time to examine the other girl cautiously. Emily, you come to the conclusion, is like one of those algebra problems that are not obvious at a first read; but once you figure out the process that is necessary to solve it, it turns into an exciting experience which you never wish to stop working on.

Such conclusion causes an electric impulse to flow through you. You glance at Emily's lips briefly, and then bite your own.

"Spence..?" she calls your name, seeming a bit puzzled. The next thing you do is lean in and close the distance between you. She hums in surprise at the feeling of your lips together once again and proceeds to caress the back of your neck as you ask for permission to deepen the kiss by running the tip of your tongue slightly across her lower lip. She doesn't hesitate to concede it. You carefully adjust your body against hers on the bed, so that she is straddling your waist, and you remain like that, kissing for a few minutes until the need for air wins over.

"Whoa." Is all that she is able to say as you part. You rest your forehead against hers, inhaling slowly as you try to regain a normal heart rate. – Without much success.

"Yeah…" You grin. Her hand is running gently through your back and there is a foreign glow to her eyes that amazes you.

"What does this mean…?" She asks. It's a question that could generate awkwardness to settle, but neither of you appear to be out of comfort.

"I'm not sure." You answer honestly. "But I do somehow think that this was meant to happen."

"So do I." She sends you her familiar captivating smile, which makes you feel like there could, in fact, be hope regarding happiness in both of your lives.

Maybe, just maybe, you could have a new safe place.

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**Thanks for reading!**

**~angstylullaby**


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